The Evolution of a Broomstick
by twilightstargazer
Summary: As he changed, so did his broom. Oneshot. Slight L/J.


_**It's October so you know what that means...**_

**The Evolution of a Broomstick**

When he was a year old James Potter got his first broom for Christmas. It was a small training broom, hovering two feet off the floor and moved at a snail's pace but young James cherished it like no other. Every day he would insist on riding it for hours at a time and never went to sleep unless it was lying beside him in his cot. He named it 'Ba,' and clutched it tightly in his chubby fists whilst slobbering all over it, carrying it wherever he went.

When he was four years old, his mum and dad brought him a new toy broomstick as the old one was losing twigs and now only managed to roll over feebly before hovering an inch or so before dropping down again, much less able to fly. The evening he got it, he immediately sped out into the orchard and kicked off, this time hovering at a maximum of ten feet and moving at a sloth's pace instead. He rode it for the entire evening and when night fell, his mum found him curled up with it under the apple tree, deep asleep. This one did not have a name but it did become an almost extension of his already long and scrawny arms. Wherever James was, you can be sure that the broomstick was almost always there too. Unless it was in the bath. His mum drew the line after she found him in the tub, surrounded by bubbles and hovering on the broomstick.

When he was nine, he received his first real racing broom. A Comet 360, one of the best back then, having only just beaten out the Nimbus 500 by a slight margin. According to his quidditch magazines (which he was of course reading religiously by that time), the Comet 360 was only available for quidditch teams across the country and not yet ready for mass production, so when he ripped over the wrapping that morning (on his birthday no less) he more or less flung himself at his parents, giving them each a quick hug and peck on the cheek before tripping over his own feet in his haste to get outside. He spent the entire day flying and then spent the entire night moaning in pain as he managed to slip off during one of his dives and break his hand.

When he was ten and finally perfected the sloth grip for the first time after seeing it in a quidditch match, James decided that he wanted to try this quidditch thing for real, and not the mock games that his dad refereed between him and House Elves.

When he was eleven and learnt that first years weren't allowed to carry broomsticks to Hogwarts, he spent the entire day locked in his room sulking and for the first time he could remember, Hogwarts was not as magical as he had thought. However, he was pleased to note that flying classes were on the curriculum and used it as an opportunity to trouble the sallow faced, beak nosed Slytherin boy and the Gryffindor girls whose eyes were greener than he thought possible. The girl did throw a shoe at him the seventh time he flew around them though, and then James found himself getting his first detention ever along with the little girl who sniffed disdainfully at him as they sat writing lines.

When he was twelve, he tried out for the quidditch team, being one of the first to show up on the pitch, clutching his Comet 360 with sweaty palms and rubbing the already fading inscription on the handle with his nervousness. He did not quite make the playing team, but he somehow still managed to finagle a spot on the team as the reserve chaser.

When he was thirteen, he made the actual team this time and almost threw up the morning of his first match. Everybody seemed to be watching him in the Great Hall that morning, paying particular attention to him as he tries to choke down his cardboard like cereal and much too acidic juice. His stomach was more knotted than his hair whenever he went a day without combing it, churning and churning and making him feel more than a little queasy. When the team stood up in unison to leave the hall, James was a beat too late and tripped over the hem of his scarlet and gold robes. He thought that no one had seen him, but green eyed girl- whose name he learnt to be Evans after a month or so in first year- smirked at him and he felt his cheeks warm. Instead of paying any more attention to her, James focused his eyes on the team mate in front of him and they all forwarded to the changing rooms. On his way out, Evans caught his arm and whispered a quick 'good luck,' in his ear before giving his shoulder a horrendously awkward pat.

When he was thirteen, he dug his nails into the wood of the handle so much that it became permanently scarred before the kick off of his first game even occurred.

When he was thirteen, he scored his first official goal ever in a quidditch match two seconds before the snitch was caught, allowing them to defeat the opposing team by ninety points. He was whooping so loudly and for a moment thought that everyone was cheering along with him but then quickly realised that it was just people shouting in happiness for the capture of the snitch. All the team mates immediately dog piled each other and floated down to the pitch in a tangle of flailing limbs. When they all finally untangled themselves from the celebratory pile, they were all ambushed by supporters who were all too happy to hug them. However, when green eyed girl hugged him, James became much more aware of the way his robes were sticking to his back and how much he needed a shower and almost swung his broomstick into a second year when he swung it off his shoulder.

When he was fourteen, he and Sirius made it a game to race each other up and down and all around the school compound and got a firm yelling from McGonagall when they almost collided with a group of first year students existing the library. Apparently it was 'against the rules,' to fly inside through the halls of the castle. Who would have known.

When he was fourteen, he left his broom under his bed for the entirety of Christmas, because for the first time in his life, flying, quidditch or broomsticks weren't at the forefront of his mind but instead it was his father's rapidly decreasing health and long nights spent sleeping in uncomfortable hospital chairs as they tried to deduce what was wrong with him.

When he was fifteen, he inadvertently stole a snitch from the stores. He had only gone to fetch another quaffle to practice with. He didn't know that a snitch would have escaped the drawer and was zooming around the place. It had almost smacked him in his face when he reflexively snatched out and managed to catch it. Only after his hand closed around the cool metal did he remember that snitches had flesh memories. Panicking a little, he shoved the snitch in his pockets, grabbed the quaffle and walked out as innocently as possible.

When he was fifteen, he and Sirius found themselves using their brooms to fly across the Great Hall during the end of year feast and covering everything visible in a tangle of red and gold streamers to signify their win of the House cup. The two of them were just congratulating themselves for a job well down when they were approached by an irate Professor McGonagall who gave them both two rolls of parchment in extra transfiguration homework as she could not take points nor place them in detention.

When he was fifteen, he spent almost every waking hour either flying through the air or at his dad's bedside. James had decided that he wanted to play quidditch professionally when he left Hogwarts. He was good, and knew it. On average, he scored around five goals a game and he knew he was a good player. He already spotted scouts attending matches coming down to the end of the season and over time he began to learn what exactly they were looking for.

When he was sixteen, he used his broom to fly up to the fifth year Gryffindor girls' dormitories to apologise to Lily once more. She almost pushed him off his broom, but only succeeded in almost falling out the window herself. In fact, if James didn't immediately catch her around her waist, she would have ended up as a nice little grease spot on the Hogwarts' grounds. Of course, he did get slapped after helping her back into the safe confinements of the tower and Lily slammed the glass shut and drew the curtains. That did not stop him though. Every evening James would fly up until he was outside her window and leave an apology note as well as a flower of some sort. It must have meant something that it kept on disappearing before the next day.

When he was sixteen, he was made quidditch captain and his parents bought him a new broom. The Nimbus 1500 was the best racing broom in the country. While that was good and well, James could not bear to part with his beloved Comet, so much so, that when he went back to Hogwarts for his sixth year, he carried both brooms with him.

When he was sixteen, he could not bear to look at a broomstick for almost an entire month, much less hold one, when his father died.

When he was seventeen, he took to taking his broom out every evening for a lazy lap around the lake and over the forest just to think and cope with what happened. It was during one of these rides that he spotted a smudge of red surrounded by two figures in black. When he investigated, he realised with a start that it was Lily Evans, backed into a corner by Avery and Mulciber who ganged up on her in what seemed like a planned attack. He reached the scene just in time to block a cutting curse from hitting her back, courtesy of Avery.

When he was seventeen, it was the first time he ever shared his broom with anyone and as he felt her wrap her arms around his waist while she pressed her torso against his back, he thought that the ground was going to drop out from underneath him. It was like the first quidditch match all over again.

When he was seventeen, these rides together became something that the two of them did together twice a week to just talk about whatever topic popped into their head with the other. It came as a slight surprise to him when she confessed that she loved flying. They weren't sure who knew about their special meetings and they weren't sure who didn't. It didn't matter really. They did not actively try to hide it, but they did not deny it either. That time together out there on the broomstick was just their time and no one could take it away.

When he was seventeen, he kissed her for the first time on the broomstick.

When he was eighteen, James became more and more aware of what was happing in the news and decided that he no longer wanted to play quidditch professionally. Instead, he was going to fight against the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself because it was the right thing to do.

When he was eighteen, he gave Lily his old Comet to use for whatever she pleased. He was sure that even if he didn't give it to her, she would have taken it anyway, as they lived in the same house now.

When he was eighteen, he was out for a midnight fly to soothe his mind when he spotted a couple getting married. It was a small ceremony held outside under the stars, but still oh so breathtaking. He hid in the shadows and watched the whole ceremony and at the end, he found himself imagining him and Lily in that situation instead. Lily dressed in all white while smiling widely at him and he in dress robes, trying his best to not trip over the hem. He went out the next day to purchase and engagement ring.

When he was nineteen, he was married and flew his new wife back to their house on his broomstick where they managed to get a week off from the Order for the Honeymoon period where they tried to not worry about anything but each other.

When he was nineteen, he supported Gideon Prewitt's limp, unconscious body on his broomstick as he took him back to Headquarters for healing. It was too late though and Lily couldn't get him out of bed for almost a week. He kept on thinking, 'maybe if I flew faster he would still be alive,' or 'maybe if I wasn't shite at side along apparition then we would not have had two more bodies to take care of.'

When he was nineteen, he no longer used his broomstick for quidditch purposes but instead he hauled his invisibility cloak over him and spent long nights patrolling neighbourhoods and keeping an eye out for any of the Death Eaters.

When he was nineteen, his broomstick fell to a clatter, splintering a few of the tail twigs when Lily, eyes rimmed red and sniffling loudly, told him that she was pregnant.

When he was twenty, the broomstick was locked in the shed. They were in hiding. He could no longer go flying whenever he fancied, he couldn't take Lily up in the air for one of their talks, he couldn't do anything that involved leaving the house and that was the worst part of all.

When he was twenty, he caved in, just a little and hovered in the little patch of land they had behind the safe house, gently bobbing along and allowing his toes to skim the grass. Lily joined him a few times too when Harry was down for a nap and the slow drifting of the broomstick combined with the soft bubble of conversation almost made it seem like they were still back in Hogwarts and they were safe and nothing could go wrong. It was a nice enough illusion that saved them from going too mad looked up in there.

When he was twenty one, the broom was retired for good in the shed. Times were getting even worse, to the point where neither of them felt comfortable in going out in to the yard for a quick fly about. Sirius bought Harry a toy broomstick for his first birthday, much like the one James had when he was a baby, and to say that Harry was enraptured would be an understatement. James cast a spell on a few foam balls Harry played with, as well as on the snitch from his school days to make it seem like an authentic quidditch match. The prospect of it made him giddy and Lily sat off to the side, laughing loudly as her husband tried to explain haversacking to a one year old. During moments like those, it was easy to ignore the giant target signs painted red on their foreheads.

When he was twenty one, one of his last thoughts was that maybe they could escape via broom.

When he never reached twenty two, splinters and twigs that once belonged to the two broomsticks littered the floor of the partially blown apart shed, each coated in thick layer of dust and to never see the light of day for many, many years to come.

**_Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a review. :)_**


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